Saving Cinna
by M. L. Ayala
Summary: MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS. Throughout his life he knew that it was possible that he would be arrested and killed for his actions, but he was determined to fight for what he knew was right. Cinna's history, from joining the rebels to being captured, and after. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

Hello all! Right, so, this is my first Hunger Games fanfic. I'm not sure exactly how long it's going to be, but I'm pretty happy with what I have so far. However, if anyone seems OoC at all then please please please tell me!

WARNING: THIS WILL CONTAIN _**MOCKINGJAY**_ SPOILERS! it probably won't be until a little later in the story, but there will definitely be some stuff in here.

Summary - Cinna's life as a rebel started when his father asked him if he was willing to risk everything to overthrow the Capital.

* * *

The scene on the television flashed again, another tribute down, another life lost. The Hunger Games were in full swing, the audience in the capital watching in awe while the children of the districts battled to the death. The people of the districts despised the Capital citizens even more during this time, for enjoying the suffering of their innocent children being punished for deeds done over half a century before. But not everyone who was watching in the Capital felt the thrill of the Games.

A young boy sat with his family in their apartment in the Capital as their television displayed the endless horrors of the arena. Children not much older than he, murdering each other in cold blood, degraded to the status imposed on them by the Capital. The boy stared wide eyed at the screen, disbelief and horror written across his face as he watched the Games.

"-inna..." a voice, detached and distant, called his name but he was too absorbed in the events unfolding before him. "Cinna!" the boy jerked to attention, turning to face his father who was looking at him with tired eyes. "Do you understand now?"

Cinna thought for a moment, remembering the somewhat odd discussion that had taken place earlier. It wasn't just the discussion that was odd, the location had been quite strange as well. Traveling through the streets of the capital for several hours, Cinna's father had taken him to a small shop on one of the narrow alleyways. After going inside his father had said a few words to the shopkeeper and then they had proceeded to a back room, and from there down into a hidden cellar. Cinna had started feeling uneasy as they entered the shop, knowing that something very important was about to happen. As they stepped down into the cellar, his father closed the door and turned to him.

"Cinna, you need to listen to me, and to think, really think, about what I'm going to tell you." His father's tone was so serious and stern, Cinna became even more alarmed. "Cinna, you've been watching the Games your whole life. You've seen what the Capital forces on the Districts. Tell me, do you think it's right?"

"No," he answered without hesitation, "no, it's not right."

His father nodded, studying his face closely before he said any more. "You've heard the stories of the rebellion, how the Capital ended the rebellion and uses the Games to punish the Districts for the rebellion. Almost everyone in the Capital views it as a deserved fate. Almost everyone. Cinna, I am part of the new resistance group, who plans to overthrow the Capital one day." His father hesitated, letting his words hang in the air.

"Why are you telling me this?" Cinna wasn't sure why, but he wasn't surprised at his father's announcement.

"Because, I want to know what you think. You could be a valued member of the resistance, with some time and guidance. But you need to understand the risks."

"The risks?" Cinna locked eyes with his father.

"When we return home and watch the Games, I want you to pay very close attention. If the Capital is willing to do such horrible things to innocent children, what do you think they will do to someone who is plotting against them?" Cinna flinched slightly at the ideas that flitted through his mind. Nothing pleasant would come of rebelling against the Capital if they were caught. "You are not to speak of this outside of this room, do you understand? The Capital monitors conversations throughout the city; this is one of the few areas where we can speak freely about our plans."

Back in their apartment, Cinna let the events of the Games, as well as the ideas that had been presented to him earlier, play through his mind.

"Yes, I understand," he turned and looked at his father, a fire burning in his eyes, "I understand, and I want to be a part of it." His father smiled slightly.

* * *

So what do you think? I know this isn't much, but is it a good start?


	2. Chapter 2

sorry everyone, it took me longer than i thought it would to finish this. i lent my copy of MJ to someone and i needed it to make sure that i got the description of Tigris just right. that, and school started, so i didn't have time to work on this until now.

* * *

It had been a few months since his father had told him about the resistance, and the group had accepted Cinna without much protest. They seemed to see the same potential in him that his father had, deciding that he would best serve their cause if they could work him into the infrastructure of the Games. Tigris, the owner of the shop where the group sometimes met, suggested this after she saw Cinna sketching during one of the meetings.

"It's very difficult to get into the Games, there are rarely positions available, but you could be one of the stylists..." she had murmured softly as she looked through Cinna's designs. Cinna studied her as she went to talk to his father. She was one of the many who had altered their appearance to fit some strange Capital trend. Even though he had lived in the Capital his whole life, Cinna had never understood the extensive changes that most Capital citizens found appealing. He preferred a much simpler look for himself, what others of the Capital would call bland. However, his designs were anything but bland, that was for sure.

When Tigris came to study his designs again, Cinna considered her enhancements, trying to decide what to make of them. He had seen many extreme cases of the surgeries available in the Capital, but nothing like her tattooed black and gold stripes, long cat whiskers, and flattened nose. She almost smiled as she looked at one design, one that he had spent more time on than any of the others.

"If you ever manage to pull that off, I'll be extremely impressed," she said, glancing over at him. "You enough ideas to be a great stylist, the only thing to do now is to figure out how you will be most helpful to our cause. When the time is right, I believe your designs will be just the thing to draw attention to our symbol." Cinna sat stunned for a few seconds. That was the most he had ever heard Tigris say to anyone at once. She normally sat up in the store or along one of the walls, listening but not commenting.

"Our symbol?" he asked her in confusion. This was the first he had heard of any symbol.

Tigris tipped her head in his father's direction, not saying anything. Cinna sighed and walked over to his father.

"What is it Cinna?"

"Tigris mentioned something about a symbol, but she won't tell me what she meant. What is this symbol?"

"Not what, who. Our symbol, when we find them, will be the face of our rebellion. They will be the one who joins the Districts in the fight against the Capital. When they give the word, people will rise up and fight." Others in the room turned to listen, nodding their heads and smiling broadly at his father's words.

"Who do you think it will be?" Cinna asked, trying to imagine someone who could do what his father described.

"Someone whose life reflects the struggles of the districts and the rebellion. Someone strong enough to survive the horrors that the Capital inflicts on the people of the Districts. For this reason, it can never be anyone from the Capital. The people of the Districts don't trust us, and for good reason. So it has to be someone from the Districts."

Cinna spent the rest of the meeting thinking about what his father said. Someone like that would need to be unforgettable, not just in personality, but in how they looked.

|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|

A few years later, Cinna was once again found himself in a meeting, listening to the discussion on a few different aspects of the rebellion, but mostly on the last Games, which had ended only a few days before. As his father joined the discussion Cinna directed a bit more attention to what they were saying. They were talking about the victor, debating something amongst themselves.

"I think that he would make an excellent face for our movement," one of the women in the room said. "He's from District 11, so he wasn't a Career. There's no reason for us to ignore him and keep looking." Satisfied that the others would see her point she sat back and waited for someone to agree with her.

"You're not wrong, but I don't think this is the person that we're looking for," Cinna's father responded quietly. "For one thing, we aren't ready to select someone to be our symbol just yet. It could be several more years before we are ready. And I don't believe that this year's victor is the right choice." Several of the others in the room nodded in agreement. "We need to have patience and keep searching."

"On that note," one of the other men in the group stood, drawing everyone's attention to him. "I think I've found someone that we should at least keep an eye on."

"And who is that?" asked the woman, still simmering because no one had agreed with her choice.

"A girl from District 12."

* * *

good? bad? somewhat ok? review and let me know! :)


	3. Chapter 3

One of the Peacekeepers had spotted her. A young girl from the Seam, who had lost her father in a mining accident, and was on the verge of starving. At first he had written her off, assuming that she would be another that they would find in an alleyway and have to make up some disease as an excuse for her death. They would never say it was starvation.

But then, a few days later he saw here again. Not thriving, but not dead yet, either. Since then he'd kept an eye on her. She wasn't just supporting herself, she was keeping her mother and younger sister alive as well.

When she brought her first kill into the Hob, he knew it was time to bring her to the attention of the rebels. He had a feeling that she might be just what they were looking for.

|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|

Everyone in the meeting sat quietly, looking back and forth between one another. Cinna thought that a few of them might have been holding their breath.

"How old is she?" someone asked in a whisper.

"Twelve. She just recently turned twelve."

"Signed up for tesserae?"

"On the morning of her birthday."

"We have to keep her out of the Games," someone else announced loudly.

One of the men stood up, with a thoughtful expression. He was a new comer to the group, Cinna hadn't heard him speak at any of the few meetings he had attended before.

"No, I don't think keeping her out of the Games is the answer." A few of the others gasped at what he said. "Think about it, the people would relate to a victor even more than they would to just a normal person from the Districts. They would follow her."

"And what of the Districts whose tributes she killed?" Cinna's father asked angrily. "Why would they follow her? They would turn against her for killing their children. And you couldn't guarantee her victory. Even if you are one of the Gamemakers." He shook his head. "No, the girl stays out of the games at all costs."

Cinna watched as the man sat back down. "Who is that?" he asked Tigris, who had come down the stairs when she heard the raised voices.

"Plutarch Heavensbee. One of the Gamemakers," she turned to go back upstairs. Before she disappeared up into her shop, she murmured over her shoulder "You may need his help to get in," then she was gone.

Cinna let his gaze slide back to Plutarch. He didn't like what the man had suggested, but he knew that Tigris was right. He was going to need his help to get into the Games. Cinna had gone to school in the Capital for the past few years getting the credentials he would need to become a stylist in the Games. He wasn't entirely pleased with the idea, but he knew it was necessary, and Tigris had taught him some things as well. She was doing all she could to make sure that he would make it as one of the stylists.

He sighed and got up, walking over to Plutarch, planning to ask him about his part as one of the Gamemakers. But as he got closer he heard him muttering to himself.

"...sister won't be old enough for several years but ... can't do anything when she volunteers ..."

Cinna hesitated, then turned away. He knew that Tigris wanted him to talk to Plutarch, but something about the man made Cinna uneasy. He may have had the trust of the others in the resistance, but Cinna decided that he would rather take his chances on his own than ask Heavensbee for tips on getting into the Games infrastructure.

Walking quickly upstairs, Cinna gave Tigris a tired smile as he headed for the door. "You didn't talk to him," Tigris sounded slightly amused. "It will take you several more years to get the chance to be a stylist if you don't get his help."

"Then I'll wait several more years," he answered and walked out into the crisp chill of the Capital.

* * *

i don't know if you could tell, but i really really don't like Plutarch. he kind of annoyed me in Mockingjay. but i would still like to stay true to his character, however irritating i find it, so if he seemed OOC at all please let me know.

thanks to everyone who reviewed! reviews make me smile :)


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far!

I'm so sorry it's been so long since I updated, I've been meaning to, I just could never get around to finishing this chapter. It wasn't exactly writer's block, but for a little while there I did forget where I was trying to go with this.

xXKillerxxCupcakeXx: I've sort of thought that Cinna would be about 18 in this and the previous chapter. give or take a year or so. That would make him somewhere around 22 when he first meets Katniss in the Games.

RueofDistrict11: I'm not entirely familiar with how the whole Beta Reading thing works, but if you would like to give it a shot, send me a PM or something to let me know how you want me to send you the chapters.

* * *

Cinna strode into the Capital building, portfolio in hand. It had been a few weeks since the meeting in Tigris's shop, and one of his instructors had told him that new stylists for the Games were being interviewed. There was a small chance that he could be chosen for the next year's Games, or he could be put on a waiting list for one of the upcoming years. Whichever it ended up being, he was getting in.

After waiting for several hours in a line that seemed to twist on forever through the elaborate Capital building, it was finally his turn. Cinna stepped through the door and handed his portfolio to one of the officials sitting at the table. After looking at so many designs, many of which were undoubtably identical ideas for Districts 1, 2, and 4, the officials were not at all interested in what he had to offer to their precious Games. Cinna didn't let his confidence waver for an instant. He knew that the moment they laid their eyes on just one of his more daring sketches, they wouldn't be able to turn away.

Flipping open his portfolio casually, the officials glanced at the opening sketches. The first few pages were relatively simple, nothing spectacular. His masterpieces, the outfits that would be unforgettable, were a few pages father in.

"And what is it that you feel that _you_ can bring to the Games?" one of them asked, trying to sound enthusiastic and failing miserably. They had stopped looking at his designs, staring instead at him with skepticism. _Who is this, and why does he waste our time with his mediocre work? _their eyes said. _Doesn't he know that these are the __**Games**__? We need something more spectacular than this._

Cinna allowed himself a small smile. The officials were reacting just as he hoped they would.

"If you would look at the next sketch that I have here, you will see exactly what I can bring to the Games."

The officials looked annoyed, but they obliged and turned to the next sketch. Their expressions of irritation and boredom immediately melted away. A few gasped, and they all drew nearer.

The next few minutes were spent in silence as the officials reviewed the rest of Cinna's portfolio. The only sounds were the occasional murmur of awe at a particularly complex design. After looking through everything, and going back to several of the designs, they looked up at him again with a new interest.

"Ahem. Well," the lead official was trying to hide his excitement as he addressed Cinna, "we don't have any spots in Districts 1, 2, or 4 available for several years, but we will put you on the waiting list immediately. You should have a spot in the 78th Games. Which of the Districts would you like to request? With your skills, 1, 2, or 4 could easily be yours. Provided of course, that you can create what you've designed."

"I've already started experimenting with the materials, so you don't need to worry about that," a hard edge crept into his voice, but Cinna quickly regained his composure, not wanting to cause any trouble. At least not yet. "As for my District, I request District 12."

The officials glanced back and forth between one another in confusion. "District 12? But surely one with your talents would want a more ... memorable District to work with..."

Cinna stood staring down at the group of officials crouched over his sketchbook, carefully considering how he should answer them. He knew his true reasons for choosing District 12 would not go over well with them. He wanted to know more about District 12, and that girl that the resistance group was keeping an eye on. It was unlikely that he would learn anything about her, but he still had to try. He felt an odd sort of connection to her.

"I think that District 12 has potential. It will be something memorable once I'm done with their tributes."

They glanced back and forth between themselves, then nodded slowly.

"Unfortunately, all of the spots for the next few years are full, but we do have an opening in District 12 that will be much sooner than the more popular Districts. The 74th Games has a few openings, and the female tribute for District 12 is one of them. You will be partnered with a novice designer." Cinna nodded, he had been expecting something along those lines.

"That will be fine, thank you." He reached forward to take his sketchbook.

"Won't you reconsider? You know that only the winners are truly remembered. It would be such a waste to use your talent on 12, they've only ever won twice, and both were just random accidents, not true victors."

_Of course that's what they'd call it when the weaker tributes win. Random accidents._ "I appreciate your concern, but my mind has been made up for a while."

"Very well then. You have a spot in the 74th Games."


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, and set this story in their favorites or alerts :)

Also, thanks to RueofDistrict11 for beta-reading this for me!

* * *

Several months and another Games passed. The meetings in Tigris's shop continued, with hardly any changes, and very few new members. Cinna had stopped attending every one; instead he would stay upstairs discussing different things with Tigris and trying to get more information about the inner workings of the Games. Going downstairs and listening to the group argue over when they should make a more daring move against the Capitol, (when they would never have the courage to do it anyway), was discouraging. He understood that they had to move slowly to avoid gaining too much attention, but at this rate the rebellion would never truly get started.

"When do you think they'll tell me who my partner is?" Cinna asked Tigris one day as they watched several of the others storm out of the shop.

Tigris cocked her head to the side slightly, "It's hard to say. But you should know soon enough."

Cinna nodded, and turned towards the basement steps, where most of the others were now coming up and leaving. As he watched them file out, he noticed a new face among the small crowd. "Who is that?" he asked quietly.

Tigris turned to look and made a low purring sound while giving him an amused look. "I'm just curious, Tigris, nothing more." She chuckled softly and gave one of her rare smiles.

"Of course. That's Portia. One of the others invited her a few weeks ago. If you had gone downstairs more often, you would have already known that," she chided him.

Cinna nodded absently and turned back to studying Portia. She had dark hair that went down past her shoulders, and a medium height and build. She looked about a year or two younger than Cinna. A few simple designs on her cheekbones and around her eyes, etched in light silver, were the only alterations that he could see on her. By Capitol standards she was quite plain, but then again, so was Cinna, since gold eyeliner was he only thing that he used to alter his appearance.

Cinna waited until Portia had left before turning back to Tigris. "Tell me more about her."

Tigris gazed at him with a knowing look, then shook her head. "If you want to know more about her, then ask her."

Cinna stood up and walked to the door. "I'll see you next week, Tigris," he said over his shoulder as he went out the door.

|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|

Weeks passed without Cinna seeing any more of Portia. Tigris still refused to tell him anything about her, and he was getting frustrated. He felt drawn to her for some reason. Not romantically, at least, he didn't think that was it. But there was something about her...

|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|

Cinna sighed as he found himself back inside the Capitol Building. A few days before, he had been notified of an appointment for him to meet the other stylists who would be working with the tributes for the 74th Hunger Games. This would be the first time that he would meet his partner.

After wandering through the halls for a few minutes, Cinna stood in the doorway for a moment, studying the others who had already arrived. All of the other stylists displayed the flamboyant looks and fashions that were always on the rage in the Capitol. They were all admiring each other and chattering on about different designs that they had been working on, and none of them gave Cinna a second glance. With his unaltered appearance, he was not noteworthy in their eyes.

Finding a place out of the way of the others, he stood and continued watching them, trying to decide which of them might be his partner. Most of the stylists that were present were ones that Cinna recognized from previous Games, their designs and reputations having secured them spots in the more desirable Districts. There were a few new ones, but most of them were already paired up, so it was unlikely that it was any of them.

Turning back to the door, Cinna waited. The others were starting a conversation about designs that they were thinking of trying for the Games, and he decided to go join them. Not paying much attention, he made his way across the room. He hadn't gotten far when someone bumped into him.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I should've been paying more attention..." He turned to face the speaker and found himself gazing into dark eyes framed by light silver designs. Portia.

Her expression went from apologetic and flustered to shocked and nervous. _Does she think I'll say something about the meetings at Tigris's?_ Cinna thought to himself. _We all know better than that; that's the only reason any of us were invited in the first place._

"I don't think we've met," Cinna smiled gently, "I'm Cinna, one of the stylists for District 12."

Immediately she seemed to relax, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Oh really? Well, it's nice to meet you Cinna. I'm Portia, the other District 12 stylist."

Cinna laughed, "Portia, I think we're going to get along just fine."

"Yeah, I think so too," she nodded and gave him a genuine smile.


	6. Chapter 6

hey everyone! i'm planning on having at least one more chapter up before the end of the year, but no promises.

thanks again to RueofDistrict11 for beta-reading this for me :)

* * *

After the meeting with the other stylists had ended, Cinna walked with Portia out of the Capitol Building.

"We need to get together and discuss some ideas," Portia said as they crossed the street. "I know you've got to have some incredible plans for the designs." There was a subtle tone of envy in her voice as she said this.

Cinna looked at her out of the corner of his eye, surprised. "You must have some good ideas too, otherwise they wouldn't have chosen you, even if it is just District 12," he said, giving her a wry grin.

She looked away for a moment, then shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not a bad designer, but ..." she trailed off, a sad light in her eyes.

"But what?" Cinna prompted.

"I was only chosen because of who my family is. My father mostly. He's one of the Head Gamemakers. And he has a bit of power in the government, too. No one wants to cross him." Portia glanced up at Cinna, then shrugged.

There was more that she was trying to tell him, Cinna could tell that easily enough. But here in the open street, where anyone could be listening, was not the place to be having this conversation.

"Why don't you come back to my apartment? We can go over some ideas that I've been working on," Cinna said.

Portia hesitated for a moment. "I would like to, but I need to get home. My father's been invited to a dinner that President Snow is having for the victor of the last Games, and our whole family has to be there. But maybe another time." She looked up into his eyes, searching for something. When she didn't find it she sighed and turned away. "I'll see you later, Cinna."

Cinna stood watching her walk away, trying to figure out what had just happened. _What is she trying to tell me?_

Cinna walked into Tigris's shop looking somewhat dejected. When he looked up, Tigris had a slightly amused and knowing look on her face.

"You knew that she was going to be my partner, didn't you?" he asked, feeling too tired to put much feeling behind his question.

"I had a feeling," Tigris purred.

"You know more about her than you've told me. I need to know more if I'm going to work with her," he said.

"You need to get to know her on your own," she responded. "It won't do you any good to hear about her from me." Cinna started pacing back and forth in front of the counter.

"She tried to tell me something earlier, and I can't figure out what it was," Cinna said. He ran a hand through his short hair and tried once again to understand what it was that Portia had tried to tell him.

Tigris glared at him from her seat behind the counter. After studying him for a few minutes, she shook her head and he heard a faint feline growl come from her.

"Think, Cinna," she berated him, "What did she tell you?"

Cinna stopped pacing and looked over at Tigris. "I've been thinking about it. Ever since she left me standing in the middle of the street. I know she was hinting at something, I just can't figure out what it is!"

Narrowing her eyes, Tigris listened to his exclamations with an obvious annoyance. Everything in her posture and expression showed her displeasure at his lack of understanding.

"Cinna, when was the last time that you saw her at one of the meetings?"

"Several months ago, but -"

"Where was she going when she left?"

"A dinner with her family. Tigris -"

"Who else is going to be at the dinner?"

"The victor of the Games, some officials, and President Snow. Why -"

"Why would her family be invited to such an important event?" Tigris accentuated this question by raising an eyebrow and cocking her head to the side.

"Her father is a Head Gamemaker. Tigris -"

"Very few Gamemakers are as open to our... cause, as Plutarch Heavensbee, Cinna," she gave a small cat grin when he flinched at the other man's name. She knew very well how uncomfortable he made Cinna feel. "Now tell me, why hasn't she been coming to the meetings? She agrees with our ideas and everything that we want to accomplish, and yet, she hasn't been here for months. Why?"

Cinna's exasperation was evident as he turned to storm towards the door. "How should I know why she..." he slowed just as he reached the door, realization dawning. He shot a disbelieving look at Tigris over his shoulder and saw her nod slightly.

"She's afraid, Cinna," Tigris's voice had returned to her normal low purr. "Be patient."

Cinna nodded wordlessly, then turned and walked out of the door.

As Cinna strode down the street towards his apartment, he thought about what Portia had told him. _How could I have been so dense?_ He understood now what she had been trying to say. Not only was her father one of the Head Gamemakers and an influential person in the government, he was a supporter of Snow's government. _How did she even find out about the resistance meetings?_ he thought as he entered his apartment building. _I have a feeling that we're going to have a lot to talk about..._


	7. Chapter 7

A few days later, Portia stood outside on the street, looking up at the building before her. It wasn't in the nicest section of the Capitol, but it wasn't the worst either. Of course, compared to the area that she'd grown up in, this was down right shabby. The thought made her smile. She was tired of having to spend all of her time in the richest part of the city, just because her father looked down on everyone who wasn't as well off as him. Portia suspected that it was one of the reasons that he became a Gamemaker. Making life a living hell for children from the districts always put him in a good mood.

_And now he has found a way to pull me into it..._ she thought mournfully to herself. Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, she walked through the door and headed towards the elevators. After a quick rise up several floors, she walked quietly down the hallway until she found the door that she wanted. She raised her hand to knock, but before she could, the door was pulled open and she found herself looking up in to Cinna's smiling face.

"Hello, Portia," he greeted cheerily, stepping aside to let her in.

She returned his smile as she entered, glancing quickly around while he closed the door. It was a simple, studio style apartment without much decoration. Her attention was drawn to one side of the apartment, where a large desk took up a generous amount of space along one wall. Stacked high with books on design and fashions, sketchbooks, and scattered loose papers, some with notes and others with drawings, it gave off the impression of semi-organized chaos.

"Sorry it's not much to look at, but I prefer to keep things simple," Cinna said when he saw her confused expression.

She nodded and walked towards the desk. Picking up a few of the drawings lying on top of everything, she raised one eyebrow and glanced back at him. "These are far from simple, Cinna."

"Oh, well, I meant everything else." He sounded a little embarrassed, but Portia could see the proud look in his eyes when she looked at his sketches.

"Do you really think we could make something like this?" she asked almost wistfully, studying a drawing of a dress that looked like it was covered in gems arranged to look like flames.

"I think we could do even more." He moved to stand next to her, searching through the stacks of books. "There's something here that I wanted to show you..."

"How can we relate this to District 12, though?" Portia asked.

"Well, the coal miners bit has been done to death, I think," Cinna explained as he moved an entire stack of books to the floor and started going through another.

"I agree. We need something that will make them stand out from the past tributes," Portia commented.

"Exactly what I've been thinking. Which is why I designed that dress," Cinna said.

Portia looked at the design closely, then smiled as she realized what he had been thinking. "Ah, yes." She set down the drawing and went to get the small portfolio that she had brought with her. "What about something like this?"

Cinna stopped his search for a moment to examine the design that she held out to him. It was of a unitard in dark oranges and reds, with a cape and headpiece made of streamers in brilliant yellows, oranges, and reds. All of the colors that one would expect to see in a blazing fire. He didn't look at her as he turned and started hunting through his papers even more quickly than before.

Finally finding what he'd been looking for, Cinna pulled out a slim sketchbook and flipped it open, setting Portia's drawing next to his own. The sketchbook page had a simple black outfit with very little decoration. It would have been boring, if it hadn't been for the flames that seemed to be coming off of certain parts of the outfit.

After looking at Cinna's sketch with wide eyes for a few seconds, Portia raised her eyes to his and laughed. "No one will be able to forget this," she said, her voice quiet and awed.

|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|

After Portia had left, Cinna stayed up late, working more with the material that they had been looking at. While he worked, he thought about everything that had happened while she had been there. He hadn't asked her anything about the resistance, even though he had been dying to from the moment that she had walked in. But remembering Tigris's advice, he had decided to wait and get to know her a bit more before he brought up that subject. He had a feeling that he wouldn't have to wait too long. They had been able to work together wonderfully, finding the perfect combination of their two designs to use for their tributes' outfits. If their idea worked out, the Opening Ceremonies of the 74th Hunger Games would be truly unforgettable.

* * *

so... my winter break is coming up here soon, but i'm not sure how busy i'm going to be. ideally i would like to get at least one more chapter done, but i'm not promising anything. thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, etc :)


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the wait everyone! Life got a little crazy there for a while, with midterms, and projects and a research paper (which i still have to do...) but things are a bit calmer now so i should hopefully be back to writing a little more frequently.

Thanks for you patience, and thanks to everyone who has read/commented/set the story to favorites/alerts, etc.

Thanks once again to my awesome beta reader, RueofDistrict11!

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Cinna and Portia met on a regular basis, usually at Cinna's apartment, to work on ideas for designs. Portia rarely mentioned her family, and Cinna didn't feel right asking her too much. Whenever the subject did come up, she would usually duck her head and pretend that she was completely absorbed in one of her designs.

"I can't take much more of this," he said as he stomped into Tigris' store one afternoon. "Can't you tell me more about her father? Why she's so afraid of him?"

Tigris turned from her work behind the counter to stare at him. "I can only tell you what I've heard from others. And that information could very easily be incorrect."

"Your sources are always right, Tigris. Why won't you just tell me?"

"It's not my story to tell, Cinna. You must be patient with her. Let her tell you what you want to know." Tigris turned back to her work.

Cinna sighed and turned to leave. Portia was coming over in an hour, and he needed to make sure that he had all of the materials they needed, not to mention a fire extinguisher…

"Alright, Tigris. I'll see you next week."

"I'll be surprised if I don't see you before then," she purred softly as he reached the door. Cinna smiled slightly in response and nodded.

"Tomorrow, then." As he left the shop, he thought he might have heard her laugh.

|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|

"Are you ready?" Cinna asked, looking at Portia, who was standing on the other side of the mannequin.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she answered with a smile.

"Alright then, here we go…" Cinna held out a lighter towards the fabric on the mannequin.

The fabric shimmered just before the flames touched it, and Portia gasped. Cinna stepped back and watched as the fire spread across the fabric. Their gazes met and he couldn't help but grin at her.

"It works!" she said, sounding shocked.

"I should hope so." He looked over at the scraps of burned cloth on the counter. "We've tried enough combinations, it's about time that one of them worked."

"I can't believe it. We're really going to do this…" Portia circled the mannequin, studying how the flames seemed to engulf the figure, without actually burning it. "Wait until he sees this," she whispered almost inaudibly.

Cinna looked up as he heard her say this. "Portia?"

"Hmm?" She turned and saw his expression. "Cinna, you have to understand," she began softly. "I never wanted to be a part of the Games. Watching those children attack each other has never been something that I thought was right. The only reason that I'm doing this is because my father made me. He started getting suspicious of who I was spending time with a few months ago. That's why I had to stop going to the meetings at Tigris's shop."

She walked over to the desk and began flipping through some of their designs. "He thinks it's odd that I don't enjoy the Games as much as everyone else in my family. How I try to avoid watching them if I can. As if I would find the slaughter of innocent children entertaining."

She turned back to Cinna slowly. "Maybe when he sees what we've come up with, he'll be convinced that he doesn't need to worry about me anymore. Then I can try to help you all again. I won't just sit back and watch this time."

Cinna listened intently, the long awaited explanation still leaving dozens of questions in his mind. He nodded and looked thoughtfully at the outfit on the mannequin. "We'll have to do our best to convince him then."

Before he could ask her any more questions, Portia grabbed her coat and headed for the door. "I have to go. I'm expected home in a little while." She hesitated at the door, and added over her shoulder, "Thanks for listening." Then she was gone.

"Anytime, Portia." Cinna sighed and went back to a design that he had been working on.

* * *

So now things should start moving into the events of the first book. If only I can find the time to write it, haha


	9. Chapter 9

Hey everyone! So we're moving into the events of the first book here, and the story should be moving along a little bit faster. I'm planning on having the next chapter up sometime by the end of this week or middle of next week. Of course, that will only happen if I don't get a ton of homework this week...

Thanks as always to my awesome beta RueofDistrict11!

* * *

Cinna slipped quietly through the crowded Capitol streets, trying to ignore the cheering and celebration that was going on around him. On every television, scenes were being shown of the Reapings throughout the districts. The tributes for the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, the Games that he had been assigned to, were being chosen.

It had been an unspoken rule that none of the resistance members would meet on important occasions like this, but he had needed to talk to Tigris, if only for a little while. When he had reached her shop, he found that he was not the only one who had decided to pay her a visit; Plutarch Heavensbee had left just as Cinna approached the door, which a smug expression on his face.

When he had asked Tigris what Plutarch had been doing there, she just shook her head angrily and wouldn't say anymore. _Something is very wrong_, Cinna thought, _I just can't see what it is…_

When he reached his apartment building, he found Portia standing outside his door.

"I couldn't watch the reapings at home," she told him softly. "Not this year. Not with my father." Cinna nodded and held the door open for her.

Over the next few hours, the two sat silently in front of Cinna's television, watching the reapings throughout the districts. Portia sat curled up at one end of the couch, while Cinna sat silently at the other. Cinna felt numb as he watched district after district give up their children to the officials. Then it was District Twelve playing across the screen, and they both sat up a little straighter.

"Cinna, tell me about that girl again. The one that they talked about at the meetings," Portia whispered.

He turned and looked at her, then sighed. "Her name's Katniss Everdeen. I don't know that much about her, but she's a survivor. She's been keeping her family alive since her father died."

"You don't think they'll let her be picked, do you?"

Cinna hesitated, remembering Plutarch's expression earlier, and some of the comments that he had made before. He shook his head and looked back at the television. "No, I don't think so. They don't want to take the risk of losing her. If things play out just right, they could use her …" He trailed off and Portia nodded in understanding.

The mayor of District Twelve was finishing his speech as a very drunk man staggered on stage. Cinna and Portia couldn't help but chuckle faintly as Haymitch Abernathy, District Twelve's only living victor, tried to hug the district escort, Effie Trinket. The mayor quickly called her up to the microphone, attempting to get everyone's attention away from Haymitch.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" Effie's bright and excited voice rang out. "It's such an honor to be here for another year in District Twelve!"

"You would think that she would try to sound a little more sincere," Portia giggled softly, turning to Cinna. He could see the nervousness in her eyes, and how hard she was trying to hide her emotions.

"Ladies first!" Effie cried out as she moved to one of the glass balls containing slips of paper for the drawing.

Portia moved closer to Cinna as Effie reached into the glass ball. "Look, Cinna," she gestured at one of the girls in the audience, and Cinna stiffened slightly. "Isn't that her?"

"Yes, that's her," Cinna answered as he saw the girl, Katniss, standing in the crowd. "It won't be her," he murmured, reassuring himself as well as Portia.

Effie returned to the podium and read out the name.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

Cinna sat frozen, watching the scene play out. Just as a young girl started to walk to the stage, a frenzied cry was heard. When the cameras finally found who was screaming, they see Katniss running to the stage while crying out, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

After the confusion dies down and Katniss is allowed on stage, Effie continues on with her cheerful chatter. "Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?"

"Maybe that's not her, Cinna. Maybe we were looking at the wrong girl…" There was a bit of hysteria in Portia's voice, barely controlled, as she watched.

"Katniss Everdeen."

Portia gasped and grabbed Cinna's hand. They clung to each other tightly as they stared at the one girl who was supposed to be kept out of the Games, standing on stage in place of another.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we?"

Cinna wanted to reach through the screen and strangle the woman. _Can't she see the love that that girl has for her sister?_

"Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

The crowd stayed silent, staring at the stage. Then, they touched the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips, and held them out to her. Cinna didn't know what the gesture meant, but he could tell that the girl was moved by it.

The rest of the Reaping went by in a blur, and Cinna barely noticed the boy tribute that was chosen. He was in too much shock from what had happened. _What __had__ happened?_ He wasn't sure, but he had a pretty good idea of who had a hand in it. Once Portia had left, he spent a little while pacing around his apartment. It was late, very late, by the time he finally stopped. _Now, I need to find out what really just happened_, he thought as he walked to the door. _And I know just who to talk to..._


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, etc!

And thanks to my beta, RueofDistrict11 :)

* * *

Cinna stood outside of one of the fancier apartment buildings in one of the best sections of the Capitol. This was the area where many of the head government officials and Gamemakers lived. Cinna had kept his temper, projecting a cool and collected image to anyone who saw him, but on the inside, he was seething. He had to keep calm though, as he waited for permission to enter the building.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it seems that Mr. Heavensbee is out at the moment. Perhaps if you return in a few weeks, he'll be able to see you. He is very busy with the Games at the moment."

Cinna gritted his teeth and nodded at the doorman. Turning on his heel, he tried to think of where he could go. Instantly thinking of Tigris's shop, he started walking.

When he walked in, he was surprised to hear frustrated voices coming from downstairs. Tigris wasn't at her usual spot behind the counter. As he approached the stairs leading downward, he recognized many of the voices, all regular members of the meetings. They were arguing about the girl.

"She can't be allowed to participate!"

"But what can we do? The entire country has seen her by now! There's no getting her out of it."

"There must be something that we can do!"

"No, we can't take her out of the Games. But we can try to give her an edge!"

"That's right! How many of us are involved in the events in the Games? Enough to make a difference in her survival!"

"We can't risk being caught, it will ruin everything we've been working towards for so long."

Just as Cinna was about to jump into the argument, Tigris pulled him off to the side and motioned for him to be quiet. He had been angry before, and throughout the walk to the shop he had felt his anger and frustration growing; but that was nothing compared to the fury he felt when he looked across the room and saw Plutarch standing up against the wall looking very pleased with himself, watching the others argue.

Plutarch stayed for a few more minutes without saying anything, then slipped up the stairs, unnoticed by many of the others. Cinna hesitated only a few moments before following him.

"Well, we'll never be able to use her as the face of the rebellion now…" one of the other's voices echoed after him as he left the shop.

It took him several minutes to catch up with Plutarch, mainly because he was trying to be inconspicuous about following him. He was almost directly behind him when Plutarch stopped and turned.

"Oh, hello Cinna," he said, his voice adding to the smug expression on his face. "Did you need something?"

Cinna was practically shaking with anger at the flippant way that Plutarch was acting, but he managed to keep his voice steady as he asked, "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Fix the reaping. How did you make it so that her sister was chosen?"

Plutarch's calm facade wavered for a moment.

"The others wanted to keep her out of the Games, but you've been trying to find a way to get around that for a while now, haven't you?" Cinna asked, feeling more sure of it just as he said it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Plutarch responded, looking down his nose at Cinna. "And I wouldn't worry about that girl if I were you. She's survived some difficult things. I'm sure that she'll do just fine." And with that, he walked away, leaving Cinna standing shocked in the middle of the street.

_He really doesn't care_, Cinna thought. _He doesn't care that if that girl dies, all of the plans that the resistance has made will fall apart. She is their last hope of ever getting something done. We need her…_

Cinna inhaled slowly, trying to decide what he should do. _They don't think they'll be able to use her as the face of the rebellion. She'll die and it will be years before they find someone who could come close to replacing her. But maybe... maybe I can do something. She could win. Everyone would remember her, but only as another victor. Maybe I can help make her unforgettable, and I know just how to do it._

He went back to his apartment and sat down at the desk. After clearing a large space and laying a blank page down, he set to work.

|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|

Portia found him asleep at his desk the next morning.

"Cinna," she said quietly, not sure whether or not she should wake him. He jerked up at her voice and looked up at her, rubbing his eyes. She chuckled softly, then turned to look at what he had been working on.

"G'morning, Portia," he mumbled as he stretched. "What time is it?" When she didn't answer, he glanced up at her and saw her staring wide eyed at the drawing that he had been working on. "Portia?"

"It's beautiful," she whispered, reaching forward to lift the design up and hold it up to the light to see it better. "What made you think of this?"

"Something that happened last night." His voice held a bitter note, but she hadn't noticed, too absorbed in studying Cinna's intricate design.

"This isn't just a dress for _a_ tribute, is it?" She raised one eyebrow slightly and the light silver etchings around her eyes shimmered, adding to her amused expression. "This is just for _her_." Cinna nodded, and Portia smiled. "It's perfect for her. Now tell me what happened last night," she said sternly as she laid the sheet down on the desk and faced him.

Cinna sighed, and after briefly considering how much he should tell her, he gave her a summary of the previous night's events.

"I'm positive that he rigged the drawing somehow. I can't believe that he would do this, especially after everyone has been so careful to make sure that none of the slips with her name on them were actually in with the rest. Somehow he managed to get them to draw the name of the one person that she would volunteer for." He shook his head, anger flashing in his eyes. "I have to make sure that she won't be forgotten, even if she doesn't make it. That's what this dress is for."

"You always have worked better when you're feeling passionate about something," Portia said with a wry smile.

"I try to express my emotions through my work, Portia. It's safer that way," he responded, sounding tired.

"For you, or for everyone else?" Before he could answer, she had grabbed his design again, and found another blank sheet. She bent her head over both pages, and began sketching another outfit. "I'll have to make something to compliment this gorgeous dress, now won't I?"

She looked over at him and grinned.

"Alright, we'll make _both_ of them unforgettable."

"Who knows? Maybe they'll both be able to make a difference for the resistance." She bent her head back to the drawings.

_This isn't just about the resistance anymore. There's so much more to it than that. _He saw the small, sad smile on Portia's face as she finished the outline of her design.

_But you know that already, don't you?_


	11. Chapter 11

... hey everyone... so ... I fell really bad about how long it's been. I some pretty good excuses, but this should have been posted at least two weeks ago, so, yeah, sorry about that.

Thanks for being so patient! And hopefully I'll have another chapter up in a decent amount of time. I will try my best.

A big thanks to my awesome beta, RueofDistrict11!

* * *

Cinna stood before the three members of his team. All three displayed some of the fashions that were currently on the rage in the Capitol, with unnaturally bright colors dominating their entire appearances. Their bubbly personalities were about to drive him over the edge. _Let's just hope that they can channel all of that energy into their work_, he thought, as they twittered on about his designs.

"So, what do you want us to do with her?" one of them, Venia, asked.

"We can dye her hair!"

"Do her make-up!"

"Tattoos!"

"No!" Cinna interrupted their excited tirade. All three turned and looked at him like young children being denied their favorite candy. _Patience_, Cinna thought sternly to himself, _use patience when dealing with them_. In truth, he liked the trio, they were just so _tiring_ sometimes. "No alterations."

"Then what are we supposed to do with her?" Octavia asked, sounding a bit annoyed, but still excited.

"Get her clean, spotless, do her nails, and wax anywhere that needs it. _Don't_ touch her hair. I'll come to see her when you're done." After he was sure that they understood his directions and would follow them, he left to find Portia.

|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|

"How did the meeting with your prep team go?" Portia asked as Cinna walked in.

"It could have been better," he muttered. She raised an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation. "Sorry, Portia. The Games are starting to get to me, that's all. This will be the first year that we actually know some of the tributes personally."

"Yes, but we've known that since the beginning," she reminded him.

He sighed and nodded. "You're right, of course. Alright, let's get everything ready." Portia laughed and shook her head at him. "What?"

"Everything's ready, Cinna. There's not much else you can do. There will be enough stress in the next few weeks, so just … try to relax for a bit."

He gave her a sad smile and sat down. "Hand me my sketchbook, would you?" She rolled her eyes a bit, but did as he asked.

|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|

A little over three hours later, Cinna made his way back to the Remake Center. It was taking longer than he'd expected, and none of the prep team had come to tell him that they were finished. He gritted his teeth and hoped that they hadn't gotten it into their heads to try any alterations on her. That would ruin all of his and Portia's plans.

A few minutes after he arrived in the room next to where they were working on Katniss, the prep team burst through the door.

"We're finished!" Venia piped, bouncing up and down a bit.

"She did well, didn't complain at all!" Flavius announced as the three crowded around Cinna. "So what do we do now?"

"Go get her outfit from Portia, then wait for me to call you back in. I need to talk with her."

"Alright!" They all nodded and rushed out the door.

Cinna waited another minute, before pushing open the door. Katniss stood in the center of the room watching him. She looked surprised, probably by his lack of the usual Capitol alterations.

"Hello, Katniss. I'm Cinna, your stylist."

"Hello," she responded.

"Just give me a moment, all right?" Cinna circled her slowly, studying her. A hard life in District 12 had left her in a near skeletal condition, but she had a wiry kind of strength to her. He held back a smile when he realized that she was studying him just as closely, trying to decide what to make of him. "Who did your hair?" he asked her softly.

"My mother."

"It's beautiful. Classic really. And in almost perfect balance with your profile. She has very clever fingers." Again he circled her. He could see the questions forming by the look in her eyes.

"You're new, aren't you? I don't think I've seen you before," she finally said.

"Yes, this is my first year in the Games," Cinna answered absentmindedly. He was already making plans for slight alterations to her outfits, and possible designs for the future.

"So they gave you District 12."

Cinna looked up and met her eyes. "I asked for District 12." More questions were sure to follow, and he knew he couldn't explain any of it to her, especially not here. Best to change the subject. "Why don't you put on your robe and we'll have a chat." He turned and walked out the door, back to the adjacent room.

Katniss followed behind him, stopping to look out the window onto the city. Cinna waved her over to one of the couches and took a seat opposite her. She watched in a calculating manner as he pushed a button on the side of the table and food rose from below. After a few seconds, she met his eyes, and he could see the hatred in them for everything that involved the Capitol.

"How despicable we must seem to you," he knew that he was right about her train of thought when she looked away. "No matter. So, Katniss, about your costume for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Portia, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Peeta. And our though is to dress you in complementary costumes. As you know, it's customary to reflect the flavor of the district."

She flinched, then asked, "So, I'll be in a coal miner outfit?"

"Not exactly. You see, Portia and I think that coal miner thing's very overdone. No one will remember you in that." _And you need to be remembered, my dear._ "And we both see it as our job to make the District 12 tributes unforgettable." By her expression he could tell that she didn't like where this was going. "So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we're going to focus on the coal. And what do we do with coal? We burn it." Her expression changed, interest piqued, and he knew that he had her full attention. "You're not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?" She didn't have to answer, Cinna could already tell by the look on her face.


End file.
